In My Own Way
by LadyTrampleton
Summary: Lithuania may not be a strong nation, but he understands pain. For the safety of his friends, he will take anything that Russia can give. One-shot Rated M for rape, don't say I didn't warn you!


In My Own Way

I've never been physically strong. When I am joined by others, I share in their strength. My friend Poland and I were united many years ago, and together we were strong. When I am alone, I am not a good fighter. Sweden and Prussia would often better me in combat due to their vast power, yet I survived. Germany and Russia bested me too, yet I am still alive. I may not be a super power and I may lack confidence, but I am strong in my own way.

I don't remember the first day he hit me.

I don't remember when it became routine. I do remember that it was cleverly hidden. I helped hide the signs he left on me; I hid the marks and the cuts from my friends when I felt their eyes search my body. He didn't hit me every day; it was only after a long drinking session and a difficult meeting. I can remember feeling shame and confusion, but I was also grateful. Grateful that it was only a few bruises and cuts, grateful that it was me had had chosen and not someone more vulnerable. As the days passed and the years stretched by, I became accustomed to his fits of rage. Sometimes my friends would notice strange marks and the occasional black eye, but I had several excuses. Russia hurt me physically, but never mentally. That was how I was strong.

Until that day...

Russia had never hurt me that way before. I remember most of what happened, but some parts are blurred. I can remember him stomping and slamming doors, looking for someone, anyone to take his anger. There was a bottle in his hand. He had been to a meeting with someone, but I cannot remember who. It was an anniversary of a major event, another reason for his mood to be foul. As I stood preparing dinner, I recall thinking of the day and trying to fathom the importance.

Russia had found me, his eyes red-rimmed and blood-shot. His jacket was missing yet still wore his scarf. I had never seen he remove it. He stood in the doorway watching me. Usually Russia would look openly angry if he was in such a mood. He would be threatening anyone with his usual "kol," but that day... his face was blank, devoid of emotion. I had thought everything would be ok.

How wrong was I.

I turned to tell him dinner was nearly ready when he punched me. His fist connected with my face and I crumpled to the floor. My brown hair hid my face as pushed myself up onto my arms, my head swimming and momentarily, I forgot who and where I was. I remember being pulled upwards as purple stars danced in front of my eyes. When they cleared, I found myself on the kitchen table, facing Russia who loomed over me, hands either side of my waist. Pure fear gripped me, an icy feeling that lined my stomach. He stared at me and I looked back. I tried to read his face for any sign of what had provoked him, but I saw nothing. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth and my teeth felt loose.

We stared for what seemed an eternity. Then his hands undid my trousers and I felt his hot breath on my neck. I was paralyzed, unable to move or push him away. He had never done this before; I didn't know how to react. It was as if I was hypnotised, but I remember a voice that broke the spell.

I didn't mind when Russia hit me in a rage. I never complained at the bruises and cuts he left. I never spoke of his fits to the others. I took his beatings with calm resolve and kept them locked away in a deep, dark corner of my mind. I was ashamed, but I accepted the pain and humiliation willingly. I would rather take Russia's rage than have him hurt anyone else. Latvia had taken more than enough from Russia, as had Estonia. I would protect them the only way I could. Latvia, Estonia, and even Finland when he was in this house... I would protect them all.

But I didn't want them to see the price I paid.

As Russia fumbled with my trousers, I turned my head and met the wide, frightened eyes of Latvia. He stood in the living room wearing his usual uniform, one hand covering his mouth and tears brimming. He called my name with a fearful, shaking voice. That voice gave me the strength to push Russia away. He grunted and stumbled as I pushed him. I knew I couldn't get away completely; he would chase me even into Latvia's bedroom and hit me in front of the smaller nation. All I could do was tell Latvia everything was alright and slam the kitchen door, blocking the ordeal from his innocent eyes.

I knew Latvia understood what happened. I knew the memory would stay with my friend. But I had to protect him, and this was the only way I knew how. I wouldn't let Russia begin to use him the way he used me. I wanted to spare Latvia the anguish that I knew. Every day with Russia was a struggle and I lacked the ability to predict his moods and actions. When he snapped, I had to be complacent and compliant. I couldn't fight back; I couldn't talk my way out. I had to take the pain and hope I would survive.

I remember as I successfully slammed the kitchen door shut, Russia grabbed my wrist. I managed to lock the door before being thrown onto the table once more. His face was angry but his eyes... his eyes were empty. I remember thinking that the meeting and drinking session today must have been terrible to warrant such a reaction. His hand tugged my trousers down and I knew gut-wrenching, heart-stopping fear. This was a line he had never crossed, not with me...

I remember being a little surprised. I had never thought about what could happen between two men. Maybe if I had known, it wouldn't have seemed so... dirty. I remember being flipped over and fingers being forced into my mouth. Tears rolled freely as he roughly jammed his first two fingers inside. They tasted of vodka, sweet and sickly. I had never cried this much before. The occasional tear would drip free during the beating, but I would normally remain calm and cry my tears after he had left. This time... I remember soul-crushing despair wash over me. There was no going back from this; the boundary had been broken and my tears signified something I could never regain.

Blistering, burning pain wracked my body as I felt him force his way into me. I screamed then. His fingers tried to silence me, but I still screamed. This brutality, this invasion... I had never experienced such pain. It was as if my body was being split in two and my internals were falling out. One of my hands was trapped under my chest, the other was held tight against the table, the grip threatening to break my bones. The edge of the table jutted painfully into my pelvis, the pain increasing with every rough thrust. I screamed. I screamed and screamed until my throat bled. I twisted and bucked, trying to break free from his grasp, but he was too strong. How would I break free from him?

I remember, as the invasion continued, hopelessness gripped my heart. My energy drained and I reverted into old habits, becoming limp and complacent. My throat burned as the screams died. I sobbed and cried, accepting the foul-tasting fingers in my mouth and the burning in my core. I would take the pain, I would suffer the humiliation, I would bear the shame, the bruises, the blood, the ache... I would protect the others. The unspoken rule between Russia and I was clear. I would take this from him, as long as he never made others suffer as I did.

I don't remember when it ended. I remember finding myself on the kitchen floor, feeling sore yet numb. My body shivered and convulsed as I lay in a heap. I sobbed all the more, relishing the cold tiles against my skin. I don't know how long I cried, but I do remember looking up and seeing him. His face was flushed and he looked almost... confused by what he saw. Confused and... surprised, as if he had found me this way and it wasn't his actions that made me so pitiful. I said nothing as he backed away, opening the kitchen door and walking upstairs. I remember feeling relieved when the door opened and Latvia was not there. No doubt he heard the screams, the grunts, the agony...

Normally, after a beating either Latvia or Estonia would find me and cry. They would cry loudly into my arms, exorcising the pain for me in their own way. I would usually comfort them as best I could, telling the nations I was alright inside, that this was only outward pain, my soul was still intact and that they helped keep it that way. They would then look up and smile, not fully understanding, but those smiles... those smiles made the pain worthwhile.

But this time...? This time I had no words of comfort. I remember lying there, blood and seed oozing from me, my soul broken pieces sitting heavy in my chest. I cried until I could cry no more. I don't remember making the decision, but somehow I pushed myself up, wincing at the pain. I stood, correcting my clothing and returned to preparing dinner. I don't remember what I thought as I stirred the contents of the pots, but remember the burning pain. I remember my hands shaking as I served dinner. I remember Estonia and Latvia appearing at the table, their eyes wider than ever. They ate in slow silence, watching me as I moved food around my plate. Russia didn't appear, so I left his dinner on the table.

I don't remember the rest of the evening. I don't even remember climbing into bed, nor how I got there. I do remember that I kept my clothes on that night. I was too frightened to change into my pyjamas. I remember lying on the mattress in darkness, shaking uncontrollably, my eyes fixed open, my hands on my arms trying to soothe away the pain. I thought of nothing as I lay there, my mind had fled my body.

I don't remember when I realised half the night had passed, but somehow I glanced at my clock and noted the time. I hadn't managed to sleep, the pain and anguish were still gripping my body. I do remember my bedroom door opening, the hinges creaking slightly. I didn't move as I heard footsteps creep towards my bed. I couldn't scream, my throat was too sore to make any noise, but I tensed, my body shaking as the attack replayed in my mind. I pulled the covers over my body and began to babble incoherent words. The fear and dread that had been pushed aside broke free and I started to cry again, begging him not to hurt me again. I was sorry; I would never be a bad boy again. I said anything and everything to make him go away.

I remember strong hands wrapping around me, making me tense and shake all the more. I felt a body press close to me through the bed sheets and another, smaller body press to my back. I sobbed louder but didn't speak. Russia had come back for more and he had brought someone with him. Was it Prussia? Had the earlier invasion unleashed something within his mind? Now I was his prisoner even more than before, both my body and mind were his. Now that Russia knew he could use me that way, would I be alive in when the dawn broke? I would protect my friends, but I had lost my soul this day.

I don't remember how long I sat there and cried with those strong arms around me. They didn't move, they just held me, waiting for my tears to dry. I remember realising that these bodies were too small to be Russia. Slowly, I sat up, turned and pulled the covers away, tears streaming down my red face. The light burned my eyes and I blinked at the blurred face before me. Blond hair, pale skin...

My lip quivered and fresh tears coursed down my cheeks. I don't remember why I did it, but I flung myself at them, arms holding them tight, not daring to let them go. I tried to speak, to beg the pair to take me away, to save me from this monster I had known, to confess all the pain and punishment I had taken... all that came out was harsh, hoarse whispers. I thought they wouldn't understand, but those strong arms held me tight. One hand stroked my hair, another rubbed my back. I heard whispered comfort as I cried onto someone's shoulder.

I pulled away then. I wanted to make certain this was real, that I hadn't fallen into a dream. No it was real. A sorrow-filled smile broke on their faces and the numbness returned to me.

Latvia and Estonia had come to soothe me. They knew everything.

I remember sniffing away my tears as Estonia pulled me into a fierce embrace. I wobbled and winced as the pain returned. I wanted to feel numb, I wanted to sleep away the rest of my life and never wake up. A part of me believed this was a dream, that I would wake up and find myself back on the kitchen table. I remember my arms slowly reaching up to return Estonia's comforting hug. He was speaking in Estonian, a language I didn't understand. I remember the pain returned as he pushed me away and Latvia pounced, pulling me into yet another fierce hug. It felt strange to feel such strength from such a small man. He was speaking Latvian in my ear, sobbing words of confusion, comfort and bitter, bitter hatred.

I don't remember how long we sat there, huddling in the dark and daring not to breathe in case we were found. Somehow, I found myself lying back in bed with Estonia and Latvia either side of me, their hands interlocked with mine as they slept. I lay staring at the ceiling; the pain still throbbed and burned, but slowly it was receding. The coiling, writhing pain within my chest was calming too. Russia had broken my spirit, but Estonia and Latvia had re-kindled it. They had shown me that they understood my sacrifices, if not fully. Even if they could not stop Russia, they could still comfort me this way and try to take some of the pain away.

My last thought as my heavy eyes closed was a content one. Despite the pain I felt externally, the anguish in my shattered soul, the sore joints and violations; I knew that I had been strong. I had protected the others in my own way. Even if they didn't fully understand, I did. I knew that Estonia and Latvia had been saved from Russia's anger. They would never have to feel his wrath as long as I could protect them.

I had survived... I had not failed in my promise. I would protect them all until my last breath. I may not be strong physically, but I could be strong on the inside.

I would protect them... forever... in my own way...

* * *

><p>The anniversary Lithuania is referring to is the 1917 Russia Revolution, which forced Tsar Nicholas II to abdicate. Bolshevik leader Lenin then took over Russia. (Nicholas II abdicated in February and Lenin took over in October... technically there were TWO revolutions that year, but it's a bit too complicated to explain in simple terms... if you're interested, wiki is always useful)<p> 


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